


Embers

by NoiraKai



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Bondage, Consent Play, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Play, Double Penetration, Impact Play, M/M, Pretend Hate Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Coercion, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoiraKai/pseuds/NoiraKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pre-comic and comic-era AU where Encke and Cain have a Dom/sub relationship. Then Abel gets into it, too.<br/>Just a series of PWP chapters with BDSM elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic portrays consenting partners roleplaying acts which may resemble coerced sex, in the things the characters say to each other, and the language the author uses to portray it. Thanks for reading if you choose to proceed. :)
> 
> Sacha = Cain  
> Nathan = Encke

Sacha lay on his stomach as the sergeant put the cuffs on his wrists, shackling him to the foot of the bed with a tiny rattle of chains. The collar was next, symbolizing that the dynamic between them was shifting... they were no longer themselves, but something pretend, personas they could take off and put on like masks.

The sergeant made sure that he saw the riding crop, quietly bending it, testing it, just at the edge of Sacha's vision. Just to fuck with him. Just to make him intensely aware of what was about to happen, to make his heart beat louder in his chest. His cock pressed into the mattress, hard and throbbing harder from being naked and exposed on the sergeant's bed, all the anticipation of the moment thick in the air and making it hard to breathe.

His muscles contracted involuntarily as the whip was dragged across his back, teasing, just lightly tickling his skin and making it writhe. Up and down and in circles, making him wait, until finally Sacha wondered if the sergeant was going to hit him at all. He relaxed and hung his head down, quietly breathing as he listened to the other man circle the bed in heavy boots.

“This... is not about obedience,” the sergeant said at last, his voice full of authority but strangely quiet, not at all like when he shouted at the new recruits until they went deaf. “It's about _power.”_

“Sss!” Sacha hissed as the first strike stung his skin, not much more than a nuisance. He knew the sergeant was going easy on him, testing his tolerance, since it was the first time they had done this. Eventually it would hurt much, much more.

“And _weakness,”_ the sergeant continued, and reached down to slowly scrape his nails up Sacha's back. His skin came alight under the sergeant's fingers, tingling with excited nerves, a thousand tiny embers glowing and trying to become flame. “You have the power to make me stop; you have the power to _allow_ me to continue,” he said, and struck again, a little harder, right across Sacha's ass.

“Ohh...” Sacha shuddered, his sighs a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“You are in control,” the sergeant said, and gently caressed Sacha's backside with his other hand, the one gloved in some soft fur material that reminded Sacha of an android kitten he'd wanted and never gotten as a child. This hand was warm, almost comforting, making him relax and forget to anticipate the next strike that landed hard across his shoulder.

“Ahh!”

“Obeying my commands does not make you weak,” the sergeant lectured, and slapped one of Sacha's asscheeks with an groping hand. “It doesn't make you less of a man. No, you are less of a man because you have _allowed_ someone to convince you that is the case.” Then he struck Sacha's ass with the whip again.

“Ohhh... _blya_...”

“You are a weapon. And a weapon has to be precise. It has to perfectly carry out the will of the one who wields it,” he said, going back to dragging the whip over Sacha's back.

The end of the whip slid up into his hair, making his spine convulse as it traveled over his skull and down his neck. “It is my intention to sharpen you. Your mind. Your body. To _hone_ you into something greater. Something more,” the sergeant said, and brought the whip back down hard on Sacha's back.

“Ahhh! _Yebatsa-sratsa...”_ Sacha growled, burying his face into the pillow to hide the involuntary expression of bliss that took over his features.  His pulse throbbed through his entire body now, and he grinded his swelling cock into the mattress and groaned.

“But in this room, I don't want you to obey me. I don't want a servant,” the sergeant said, gliding the fur-gloved hand over Sacha's back. “I want a wild _thing_ that needs to be tamed. I want you to _fight me.”_ He traced the gloved hand up Sacha's backbone, sliding his fingers into his hair and pulling, forcing Sacha to look at him. “Fight with me, like you fight with yourself,” he said through gritted teeth.

“The fight that's going in _here,”_ he said, and lightly shook Sacha's head by his mane, “makes you weak. Ineffective. So fight with me instead, and become strong.” In the same moment, he let go of Sacha's head, and laid the whip across his ass again.

“Sss.... _idi ka chertu!”_ Sacha swore at him, snarling the words with a murderous glare.

“Yes. _Good,”_ the sergeant practically purred in his ear, sending another shiver of pleasure down his spine. “Fight me, and I will win the right to take you. I will _earn_ the right to make you mine. Conquer you. Every time if I have to, until you become the Fighter I know you can be.” He took his ungloved hand and scratched it down Sacha's back, hard, before clapping it down on his ass again.

“Ahh!”

“And the more you submit to me, the more vicious you will become. The more of a challenge you will become,” he said deviously, and sat beside Sacha on the bed. “Do you understand?”

“...Yes,” Sacha answered through labored breath, the closeness of the other man and his desire for him to be closer drowning out everything else.

“You are in control,” the sergeant said again. “Say it.”

“I am in control.”

“Say it louder.”

 _"I am in control,”_  Sacha repeated, trying to make himself believe, cuffed to the metal frame of the bed with a collar on his neck and his ass in the air.

“Yes.” The sergeant had just a hint of affection in his voice now. “It is not weak to ask me to stop.... For that matter, it is not weak to ask me for more," he said softly, and ran an even softer hand over Sacha's arm. He stood up again, and traced meaningless symbols into the canvas of Sacha's skin. Sacha closed his eyes and listened to two hundred of his heartbeats; the next strike of the sergeant's whip hung heavy in the air and never came.

“You are waiting for me to say it,” Sacha realized.

“Yes... I am,” the sergeant answered, amusement making his voice warmer and kind and maybe slightly wicked.

Sacha swallowed and shut his eyes again. “More,” he ordered, and the whip immediately responded, loud and hard across his ass, hurting more than anything up until then.  Sacha's cock pressed into the mattress with the strike, making him moan and bite his lip.

“ _Yescho_... More!” Sacha growled, and the whip came down again, like an echo of his words. “More,” he said softly, and the whip fell softer too. “More...MORE,” he shouted. The sergeant delivered two more merciless cracks of the whip, and then suddenly jumped up on the bed with Sacha and straddled him. Sacha tried to crane his head around to see, but a hand just roughly pushed him back down. He struggled against the other man's weight, pulling against his shackles as he pretended to try and buck him off. The harder he fought, the harder he was held down, until finally the sergeant covered him with his body, pinning him there and sinking his teeth into Sacha's neck. 

Sacha cried out in pleasure as much as protest, and jerked against his bonds, but the sergeant shoved him into the mattress with unrelenting strength. Sacha's hard cock moved into the mattress with the force of both their weights, and he moaned again. A hand wrapped around his throat, pressing just enough to feel his pulse. "What color are you?" Nathan said calmly into his ear, somehow completely detached from all of the turmoil of their struggle.

"...Green..." Sacha breathed, taking the brief moment to be out of character and push his ass up, shimmying flirtatiously against the hard cock under Nathan's pants.

The hand around his neck pressed a little harder, threatening to cut off Sacha's air. "You _will_ submit to me," the sergeant growled. 

Sacha pushed up with all his might, trying to throw the other man off of him one last time. He was forced to the mattress again, and the sergeant pushed a hand underneath him to grope at Sacha's cock.  "Oh, fuck!" Sacha breathed, relaxing his body and lifting his ass up again, surrendering to the sergeant's touch at last.

A soothing hand rubbed up and down his back, and then the sergeant pulled both of his hands away. Sacha's cock twitched as he heard the quick sound of a zipper coming undone. He groaned and stretched his muscles, shifting his back, languid and seducing underneath the other man. 

Two slick fingers came out of nowhere and pushed into him, rough and demanding. Sacha lifted up, taking them in deeper, and let out an almost satisfied growl. He turned his head to look again, expecting to be pushed down. But the sergeant left him alone, let Sacha watch as he pressed the head of his cock against his entrance, stretching him open. Panting, Sacha pulled his arm down to touch himself, remembering too late that his wrists were still chained to the bed.

The sergeant leaned down, falling on his hands on either side of Sacha's head. He pushed all the way inside, not taking any time before he started fucking Sacha fast and rough. Each thrust invaded him deeper and deeper, and pushed his cock against the sheets. Sacha moved into it, grunting as he tried to get more contact and keep up with the bed-rocking pace.

The sergeant grabbed at Sacha's hair with one hand, and then slid it down his body, wrapping around to pinch Sacha's nipple. Sacha humped at the mattress harder, his cock burning hot in between him and the bed, so close after being made to wait so long. "Fuck," he rasped, barely able to form words. "Oh, fuck!"

"Come!" the sergeant growled at him, and Sacha couldn't help but obey, exploding hot all over his stomach and the sheets, feeling himself pulse around the sergeant's cock and pull him over the edge. The sergeant came inside him with a few sharp, jerking thrusts, and then went still with a loud, shuddering groan. 

 

The collar immediately came off, and the shackles soon after. Sacha rubbed at his wrists as Nathan kicked off his boots and sat on the bed, pulling Sacha to his chest.

“Here, drink some water,” Nathan said quietly, reaching for the bottle on the bedside table. “You okay baby?”

Sacha took a long drink before handing the bottle back to him. “Yeah. I'm okay.” Nathan leaned over to put the water back on the table, and wrapped his arms around Sacha, holding him close, humming as he pressed gentle kisses onto Sacha's stinging back.

“You did good baby,” Nathan said low into his ear. “You were _so good.”_ Sacha leaned back into him, sighing as he relaxed into his warmth, but still shaking with adrenaline and cold. “God, you're gorgeous,” Nathan whispered. “And you're mine,” he said, holding Sacha a little closer. “You belong to me.”

“Now, tell me what you need, baby,” Nathan asked him. “What do you need from me?”

“I...” the words died in Sacha's throat, and there he was fighting with himself again. Fighting with the voice in his head that told him just saying the words would make him weaker.

“Be strong for me, and tell me what you need,” Nathan encouraged him.

 _“Kiss me,"_ Sacha whispered.

“Okay come here.” Nathan leaned back and pulled Sacha with him, draping him over his chest. Sacha turned his head so Nathan could kiss him, slow and deep and soft, whispering beautiful things into Sacha's ear. He twisted around to face him, wrapping his arms around Nathan's neck and burying his face in his chest. "You're okay... everything okay," Nathan murmured as he shifted them so they were on their sides, pressing kisses into Sacha's hair. "Did you like it?" he asked.

"Yeah. That was fucking hot," Sacha answered.

Nathan snickered and kissed him again. "Was there anything I could have done differently? Anything you liked? Didn't like?"

"I... I really liked it when you bit me." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You could have done more of that," Sacha said with a shy smile pressed to Nathan's dark skin, admiring the contrast as he ran a finger over Nathan's collarbone.

"Okay. More biting next time," Nathan agreed, and buried his nose in Sacha's hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In my headcanon, Cain's first language was Russian, and he has a very sexy Russian accent. (Hamlet has actually said this isn't the case, that his accent only comes out when he's excited.) Anyway, I sort of imagine that when he first joined the Alliance, his English wasn't as good as it is now, so he would tend to speak in Russian more. Also maybe Encke encourages him to talk in Russian in bed cuz it's sexy as hell.
> 
> Yebatsa-sratsa - fucking shit  
> idi ka chertu - go to hell  
> Yescho - more  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

He knew he was fucked the moment Bering's eyes fell on Sacha, the old man crossing his arms with the slightest tilt of his head, wary and impressed at the same time. All of those months of training, honing Sacha's skills and turning him into a killing machine... all of Nathan's plans, for rising through the ranks with Sacha at his side, a fierce and loyal second in battle, a fervent and challenging lover in bed, the pair of them a dual force to be reckoned with... all of that shattered, with little more than a tilt of Bering's head and an almost imperceptible squint of his eyelids.

Bering pointed to where Sacha was training in the ring, a thing of beauty with his teeth bared and his double-bladed glaive bending the air around him and making it sing. Sacha and the weapon together were a hurricane, a flurry of motion as he parried strike after strike of his opponent's sword, and finally used the long pole of the glaive to knock the other soldier on his back, holding him there with a blade against his neck and a look in Sacha's eyes.

“Tell me about that one,” Bering said, his voice gruff and apathetic, like he'd already made up his mind.

He had gone and overdone it. He had transformed Sacha from a scrawny colonial punk into the most fearsome warrior in his class, all cacophonous doubts and crippling insecurities banished from his mind under the sergeant's whip, and it showed in every movement of every lithe muscle, as Sacha held out a hand and pulled his breathless opponent to his feet and graciously bowed.

Sacha was too good... too skilled and too vicious and too confident to escape the attention of Nathan's superiors. Bering would see what he wanted to see, that bloodlust in Sacha's eyes, and he would conveniently ignore the way it evaporated when Sacha looked at his sergeant, still lost and yearning and desperate for approval. He wasn't ready yet. Nathan silently reassured himself that it wasn't jealousy, but rather love... the kind of love a sculptor has for the thing molded in his image, but not yet made complete by the testing fires of a kiln.

Sacha was still vulnerable, and weak, and easily corruptible. But it didn't matter. They would take Sacha away from him, and convince him he was perfect just the way he was. They would turn him into a monster. And there was nothing... not a single fucking thing that he could do. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is on hiatus until I finish some other things. I do plan on finishing it at this time, however.


End file.
